


The Three Times Jack Went Back

by rousseau



Category: Lost
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rousseau/pseuds/rousseau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Island, Jack couldn't go back to the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Times Jack Went Back

When Jack got downstairs, Kate was standing at the sink washing a few dishes. A sandwich oozing brown mustard sat on the counter, haphazardly wrapped in wax paper. A green apple lay on its side, a candy bar and a bag of chips keeping it from rolling off the counter and down to the floor. Kate’s rushed, but loving lunches were always mindful of Jack’s favorites. 

Kate shut the water off and turned around slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She was pleased to see Jack there, dressed in plain, navy blue scrubs. He looked nervous.  
“Morning, Doctor.” Kate moved to him.  
“Morning, Chef.” Jack pulled her in gently, grateful for the weight of her head against his chest. She leaned back to study him, finding a line of worry reaching from temple to temple.  
“Think you’re ready?” She asked, and Jack pursed his lips. Silence. Kate knew that silence well, full of self doubt. She’d earned over the years that she had no power to palliate that doubt. All she could do was wait until he gathered the strength to prove himself wrong. She did, though, pick up a few tricks on the way.

“I found this,” Kate said, walking over to the living room and returning with a leather doctor’s bag. It was chocolate brown, clearly used, but not worn. “It was your father’s. I didn’t know that you were named after him.”  
Jack took it from her carefully and unzipped the main compartment. On the inside, there were three letters embroidered in broad capital letters. C.J.S. Christian Jack Shephard. “I guess I am.” Jack replied, surprised.

Within ten minutes, Jack had filled it, kissed Kate goodbye, and gotten himself in the car. It would serve as a reminder, he thought, for all of the things he did and did not want to be.

Autopilot took over on the way there; it was an easy drive. He pulled into the employee deck at St. Sebastian’s, wheeling his car into it’s spot. From there, he sat in the car for an hour. Jack stared at the staff entrance, watched bodies in scrubs rush in and struggle warily out. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his father’s bag on his lap, carrying lunch and paperwork and an extra pair of shoes. Nothing about it felt right. 

Jack fished the keys from the console and started the engine. He was home within ten minutes. 

\----

The next day’s alarm went off at 6:30. Not so bright, but certainly early. The first of the morning sun coaxed him awake. He stirred immediately, but not Kate. She slept soundly next to him, and that brought him comfort. On the island she was all kicks and whines, fighting her way through the night. He planted a kiss firmly on her forehead, smoothed back the frizzy morning curls that spread out over the pillow, and rolled out from under her arm. She shifted, but did not rouse. Jack took that as a compliment.

He showered, put on his scrubs—green this time—and headed to the car with his father’s bag in tow. It still felt wrong. 

On the way there, Jack imagined his parents, all that money they spent on medical school, the thousands of hours he himself spent studying in classrooms. Neither cost was enough to compel him out of the car once he parked.

Hospitals were too full, too full of life and death and sadness and joy. Sure, he welcomed the life and the happiness that it brought, but the converse was too much to bear. He had witnessed his fill. He no longer wanted to be responsible. Saving lives was noble work, and he had done enough. He remembered Sun’s words on the Island, when he had been working on Boone for hours and hours, weak from transfusion and dehydration and exhaustion.

“You have done enough.” She said sternly, hand on his shoulder. 

He grasped for negatives—the hours, the risks, the physical toll, strained relationships. They were not hard to find. Maybe his protestations had weight. Maybe they were exaggerated, simply because Jack wanted to be anywhere else but the parking lot of that damned hospital.

Angry this time, he shoved the keys in the ignition. He sped from the tier and onto the street, running three red lights on the way to the stadium. Just like during his residency, he’d stomp on each and every blue step in the arena. He’d go home sweaty and tired, but with a solution instead of a problem.

\----

“You know, you don’t have to be a doctor, Jack. It was your job, not who you are.” Kate came up behind Jack, seated at the breakfast nook. He was hunched over that morning’s newspaper, but he wasn’t reading it.  
“It’s not fair that you always know what I’m thinking.” He pushed the paper across the marble.  
“You’re a dead giveaway.” Jack sighed and turned around. Just as he opened his arms, Kate settled between his knees. His chin rested on her shoulder, arms wrapped lazily around her waist. Her hair was wet from a shower; it smelled of lavender and dripped on his hands.

“I don’t want to be a doctor.” Jack admitted softly, more to Kate’s neck than the outside world.  
“I know,” Kate said, equally as low.  
“I can’t be a doctor anymore. Not after.”  
“I know.” Jack was cracking now, he pulled Kate in closer.  
“I don’t know how to do anything else.”  
“You’ll find something, Jack. You will.” He wanted to believe her, really—he did. But an overwhelming fear of failure was instilled in him before he could walk. He sighed again, this time, deeper. Kate pulled away, hands coming to either side of Jack’s face. “You have nothing to prove, anymore, Jack. Not to me, not to your Dad, not to anyone. Do what you want to do. Do what’s going to make you happy.”

Jack closed his eyes, and was silent for a long time.  
“I have to go sign the papers. Let them know they need to find another surgeon.”

Kate watched Jack’s old Ford peel out of the driveway and skid down the street. He had always been such a terrible driver. She laughed to herself, and crossed driving off of the list of potential occupations.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very late to get into this series, but after crashing all six seasons in a few weeks, I absolutely fell in love with Jack and Kate together. A little silly fluff never hurt anyone.


End file.
